"I hate ties."

"Maybe if you wouldn't have waited to put it on until you were in the car, you would like them more." I took ahold of Hawkeye's black tie and tightened it. Just as I did, Grace hit a pothole and the tie tightened...a little bit too much.

"Are you trying to kill me?" Hawkeye demanded. "Calla, what do you know about ties?"

"I know Jeremy looks good in one," she sighed dreamily.

"Thanks, that helps a lot."

Margaret grabbed Hawkeye's tie and adjusted it. "There."

"Where's the church again?" Grace asked.

"You see that white building up there with the steeple?" Hawkeye said.

"Yeah..."

"Wow," said Calla. She peered out the window. "Everyone must have shown up today."

"Well, Dad's seen almost all of the population naked," Hawkeye pointed out. "I remember, when I was little, that Mom always used to get upset when he performed checkups on Nita Carlson and I wanted to watch. Now, believe me, I've seen Nita Carlson in her underwear and it's not that great."

I put my hand on Hawkeye's arm. "It'll be all right," I said softly.

He leaned his head against the window. "I hope so."

Grace hit the car against the curb. "Everybody out!" she chirped.

"The Grace Belkin system of braking," muttered Calla as she stepped out of the car into a mud puddle. "Great. These were new shoes." She adjusted her dark green tennis dress. "Do you think I can go barefoot?"

"Oh, Dr. Pierce!"

Hawkeye turned around. Ms. Charmichael from the funeral home was trotting over to him, with Mr. Nixser in hot pursuit.

"How are you?" asked Ms. Charmichael. "That's a stupid question, actually. I know how I felt when I lost my father a few years ago. It was absolutely horrible."

"Yeah." Hawkeye nodded, and cringed as Grace latched onto him.

A large woman who looked to be in her sixties came over to me. "Are you a relative?"

"Uh...well..." I stammered. "In a way..."

"Good. We're having the reading of the will in five minutes."

The woman waddled back into the church.

"Hawkeye," I said, going over to him. "Some woman just told me to meet in the basement in five minutes for the reading of the will.

"Was this woman much bigger than a breadbox, in a brown housedress with a lace collar?" Hawkeye asked.

"How'd you know?"

"Adeline Washington." Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "Let's go." He motioned for Calla, Margaret, and me to follow him. Grace came along anyway.

The church was small, with a staircase going down to the basement. The inside was almost half full, and the funeral wasn't set to start for forty minutes.

Downstairs, there were about two dozen people. A group of small children had formed by a teenage girl, who looked as if she'd rather die than be anywhere near them.

"All right, if everyone is present, we'll begin the reading," said a man in a gray suit. "I'm Arnold Hensler, executive of Daniel's estate. Let me first extend my sympathies to you all."

"I'm going to keep a running total of how many times someone extends their sympathies to us," Calla muttered.

"Dr. Pierce," Mr. Hensler began, "your father has left you his entire estate, along with 50,000 dollars. To Janice Winston, Daniel's sister--"

"She's gotta be old," Calla whispered.

"You are set to inherit 10,000 dollars and the buggy in the shed."

"Oh, my," said a woman with pure white hair. "He knew I always loved that." She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

"I have a great-aunt?" Calla asked, twisting around. "No way."

Mr. Hensler went on, naming off a lot of relatives on both sides of the family. Calla kept turning around, trying to see all of her relatives.

"Before we conclude, there is one other inheritance I would like to announce." Mr. Hensler cleared his throat. "It goes to Calla Waters."

There was a murmur throughout the room. Apparently, some of them must have known about Daniel's granddaughter.

" 'To Calla Waters, my granddaughter,' " read Mr. Hensler. " 'Though I have never met you, I have a good idea of how you might act. If you're anything like my son was...I shudder to think. To you and your father I leave the Pierce family scrapbooks. Know I am watching you--so BEHAVE.' "

That caused some chuckles. Calla turned beet red.

"And now, I'll turn it over to Pastor Breeca," Mr. Hensler said. "Pastor?"

The pastor, a short, skinny man, stood up. "I extend my sorrows to you-"

"Two," Calla murmured.

"-and wish you the love and sincere caring of our Lord, Jesus Christ. Now, if you'll line up with Ben leading, Calla will follow."

Pastor Breeca continued listing, and I walked up the steps. It would make me look awfully stupid, standing down there when I didn't have a drop of Pierce blood in me. (Of course, that didn't bother Grace. She was pouting at the back of the line.)

Margaret followed me. "If I hear one more word out of Grace..."

"We'll make her eat her own breakfast," I finished.

"Margaret! Jaclyn!" a familiar voice called.

We turned around.

"B.J.!" Margaret cried.

She and I ran over to our former MASH member and hugged him.

"You haven't changed a bit," he told me, and I laughed. "What, you don't believe me?"

"I'd like to," I answered.

It was then I noticed a blond woman and two children behind him.

"Oh, Peg, this is Margaret Houlihan, and Jaclyn Waters," B.J. said.

"Pleased to see you again. We met at the reunion, didn't we?" asked Margaret as she shook Peg's hand.

Peg thought for a moment. "Yes, we did. You were fighting with a man with no lips."

"Frank." Margaret sighed.

"And, Jaclyn, you weren't at the reunion, were you?" Peg said.

I shook my head. "I've heard so much about you, though."

"All of it good, darling," B.J. put it.

"We'd better move into the church," Margaret said. "They were lining up to enter with the casket."

As we all found pews, I was introduced to Erin, who looked remarkably like Peg, and Jacob, who was seven.

"Please stand," the pastor instructed, and we did.

"Amazing Grace" started, and Hawkeye came in. Calla followed behind him. She looked surprisingly somber.

"Jaclyn, call me crazy, but look at the man in front of us and tell me he doesn't look like Charles," Margaret whispered.

I looked and found she was right.

"It can't be," I whispered back.

The man turned around. "Excuse me, but--Margaret?"

"Charles!" Margaret cried, and quickly lowered her voice. "Why are you here?"

"A woman with a horrible accent called," he whispered, turning to face us. Noticing me, he asked, "Do I know you?"

"Jaclyn Waters," I told him. "Remember, the Captain who married Hawkeye?"

"I had been wondering whatever happened to you two," said Charles. "Have you taken up residence in the Midwest?"

"You don't know?" I asked in amazement.

"Know what?"

"Charles, we got divorced less than a month after the war ended," I said.

"Really." He snorted back a laugh. "I knew it wouldn't last. You and Pierce were-"

Charles cut off as he realized the entire congregation was staring at him.

"Sit DOWN." The woman standing beside him yanked the Major into a sitting position. "Sorry about him," she said to the general church.

I heard Hawkeye chuckling as the minister said, with a suspicious look at Charles, "You may take your seats."

Leave it to Charles to put his foot in his mouth at a funeral.